


Stay Put & Play Along

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: It's months after the season finale, Beth is onto new business ventures, but Rio is still on her mind.





	Stay Put & Play Along

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm cleaning out my drafts, this was there, so here it is.

High stakes gambling was never something that much interested Beth. Sure, there was a time when she could watch Celebrity Poker marathons all night, but she never could sleep much while pregnant and Bravo was going through a phase.

 

It was either that or infomercials.

 

Card games bore her, but she enjoys the thrill of doing something underhanded under the guise of something pure and wholesome like a school fundraiser.

 

It started soon after Rio dumped her and she was petty enough and hurt enough to get him arrested. Until he got out of if, because of course he did. Someone like him doesn’t get involved with someone like her without planning ahead. 

 

He’d beat Dean to a pulp, she suspected because doing it to her went against his code of conduct, and when the cops showed up, she’d told him to leave. She told him to leave and she’d kept his gun, which was fine because he’d taken her ability to settle and now it’s impossible for her to go back to the before, and that is worse, that is death. 

 

She didn’t hear from him again.

 

Once in a while she still looks over her shoulder, thinking--hoping--maybe she’ll see him lurking, but he’s never there. 

 

Beth tells herself that the irksome unease that fills her is due to her new affinity for crime and nothing to do with Rio being gone. 

 

She mentions her idea to the girls, and they plan for months, waiting for the dust to settle on everything with Rio, and Dean, and Ruby and Stan. Then, they pull their savings together start shopping for buildings well under market value until they find a warehouse not unlike Rio’s, with a large basement space in which to set up 30 poker tables. With some research and well calculated word of mouth, they fill them on a bi-weekly basis, drinks and money flowing all night while some school fundraiser is going on upstairs to cover for the noise and cars.

 

Tonight, she’s hosting a luau and drunk parents dancing to a local Blink 182 cover band is just enough noise to cover the party of rich addicts leaving money on her tables downstairs. 

 

They don’t make nearly as much as Rio made washing cash, but they sure are making a hell of a lot more than what he was paying them.

 

She likes it, she’s good at it. Still there’s a point at the end of the night when she finds herself thinking about him, wondering what con he’s pulling off. Tonight, thanks to a few belligerent drunks, that moment is arriving earlier than usual.

 

Annie appears at the far end of the decorated warehouse, careful not to draw attention to the door she’s just come through, and catches Beth’s eye-a wordless inquiry. 

 

Beth swiftly checks her watch and then signals their one hour countdown. 

 

Annie nods and disappears soon thereafter. Helping co-manage has really kept her occupied through Sadie’s move to Gregg’s. She needed that. And it turns out, she’s good at it, too. 

 

Ruby’s got the night off tonight. Tonight, she and Stan are just parents at a school fundraiser. Beth catches him eyeing her funnily sometimes, but that’s to be expected. Beth watches them laugh so hard at something that Ruby’s wiping away tears and it makes Beth smile. At the bottom of that fleeting moment of contentedness, a feeling she’s learned to associate with Rio nips at her. 

 

Shaking it off doesn’t work, and so she heads for the bar in search of whiskey.

 

Her take tonight is hefty. The girth of the vinyl bag is satisfying and she tests its weight before stuffing it in the back of her closet and going up to check on the kids, warm glass of milk in her hand in anticipation of her one little bug who can’t get to sleep until her mamma is home. 

 

Emma turns in her bed as Beth pushes her bedroom door open. 

 

“Hi, bug,” she coos softly as she sits beside her. “What are you still doing up? It’s so late.” 

 

“I dunno,” Emma answers, turning over to wrap her little arms around Beth’s waist, burying her face in her hip. 

 

“You don’t know, huh?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Would madame like some milk with honey?”

 

“Mhmm.” 

 

“Okay. Sit up.” 

 

Emma sits up and bounces enthusiastically a few times before carefully taking the glass and sipping. Beth watches her hold the glass to her mouth longer than necessary, buying her time to stay awake longer. Beth brushes her hair out of her face and then takes the glass away. 

 

“Okay. Sleepy time.” 

 

“Oh-kay.”

 

“Oh-kay, silly girl.” 

 

It may be all for show, but placebo effect or not, this little act does the trick every time. The minute she’s tucked in, Emma yawns and her eyes are drifting shut. 

 

“We see Daddy tomorrow?” 

 

Beth pauses a moment, pushes the remnants of disdain she feels for the man away and smiles, “Yes, baby. You’ll go visit Daddy tomorrow. Time for sleep now, okay?” 

 

“Kay.”

 

“I love you,” she whispers, but Emma is already asleep.

 

She shuts lights off as she goes, picks up Kenny’s soccer ball from the top step of the stairs and then goes down to the kitchen, keeping an eye out for any stray toys on the floor, which she then dumps in a toy chest under the stairs. Her blue designer dress is a little wrinkled but it still looks good and when she catches her reflection in the TV screen, she takes a second to smooth the fabric down around her hips and then spots the stack of mail on the kitchen counter that hasn’t been checked in days. 

 

She sighs upon reaching it, leaning a hip against the counter as she begins to sort through envelopes and junk mail, soon revealing a small brown box with her name on it, but no return address. 

 

She makes quick work of slicing it open with a butter knife, inside there’s another, smaller box with something noisy inside. When she spills the contents onto the counter, she freezes and stares.

 

Something begins to bubble in her chest the longer she stares. Anger. By the time she reaches out and tentatively touches it and splays out on the counter, she’s fuming. 

 

Her pearls.

 

Her fucking pearls. 

 

She almost laughs at the absurdity of it. And she thought she was petty. 

 

She can’t figure out why him returning her property should make her angry, but it does. She’s furious.

 

She checks the big box, shakes the smaller one for a card but there’s nothing and she tosses it across the room before storming out of the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on her way to her bedroom.

 

She slams the door and almost regrets it but when she hears no stirring, she takes a long swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. 

 

She paces around, taking swig after swig, cursing Rio and herself for giving a shit. Finally, she thinks maybe a bath will help but when she walks into the bathroom she knows she won’t be able to relax unless she’s good and drunk. 

 

Sitting on the edge of the tub, she catches herself in the mirror and sighs, wondering what it’s going to take to purge that man from her system. Dean had been in her life over twenty years and after a little pain she was able to kick him to the curb. Rio had been in her life at intervals a matter of months and she can’t stop thinking about him. 

 

Pathetic. 

 

After a minute longer of self loathing, she pushes herself off the tub and heads back into her bedroom. She’s not shit-faced yet, but she’s close. She lifts the bottle again but stops midway as something startles her. 

 

“Long night?” 

 

She hates that she screams, she hates that he’s smiling, and she hates that despite everything-she’s sort of glad to see him. 

 

Beth runs for the door, pokes her head out and listens for the kids. Nothing. Great. 

 

She rounds on him, points the bottle at him when she demands, “How the hell did you get in here? Better yet, what the hell are you doing in my home, Rio? No. Better yet, what are you doing in my  _ bedroom _ ?”

 

She’s panting, her free hand in a fist at her side, her muscles pulled so tight they might just snap. And Rio--Rio is sitting at the foot Beth’s bed with a shit-eating grin on his face and a look in his eye like he’s never left. 

 

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” He asks in that lazy growl like a resting panther.

 

Beth lets out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? You tried to kill me, remember?”

 

Rio shrugs. “Yeah, and you tried to kill me. You tried to put me in jail, which is worse. So. I think we’re even, no?”

 

He’s got a short sleeve shirt on and no hoodie to hide the ink on his arms. This reminds Beth that they’re meeting in Spring for once. She scans him head to toe, as if to make sure he’s really there and when she meets his eyes again, she finds he’s been doing the same. 

 

“You’ve been doing okay for yourself, I hear.” 

 

“Not as great as you, right?”

 

“Not bad, though.”

 

“What? Do you have spies on me?”

 

“Well, it’s not like we’re friends on Facebook or anything. How am I supposed to know what you’re up to?” He jokes.

 

She must be frowning, or sneering, or doing something with her face that he finds amusing, because he laughs. 

 

She rolls her eyes and turns her back on him to place the bottle on her dresser. It isn’t lost on her that this is the first time she’s done this without feeling like she owes him something or like he’s got a reason to attack her. They’re equals in that moment, and that feels like levity.

 

Eyes trained on the wall, she takes a deep breath and asks, “Why did you send me my necklace?”

 

“Well, what do I want with your necklace? Plus, you have my gun. Thought we could trade.” 

 

The statement makes her want to punch a hole in the wall and she has to take a steadying breath before slowly turning back around to face him. When she does, he’s standing, looking at the picture of the kids on the nightstand. 

 

“Car man’s gone, huh?” 

 

“Rio--”

 

He turns to her before she can finish a thought and as if he’s been waiting to say it, blurts, “You look good, Elizabeth.” 

 

He’s serious now, all mischief gone from his demeanor.

 

Beth has to remind herself to breathe because the way he says her name makes her lightheaded. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t really know what to say when he looks at her that way, when he’s here with no real reason to be, when he’s been gone so long.

 

Suddenly, the words spill out of her at their own accord, “Fuck you, Rio.” 

 

He’s taken aback. So is she but she’s not about to show him that, so she crosses her arms over her chest and then has the mind to raise her chin and hold her ground. 

 

Pointing a finger at his own chest he exclaims, “Excuse me, fuck  _ me _ ?”

 

“Yeah, fuck  _ you _ .”

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time we saw each other you had my gun pointed at my face! After you set me up, remember?” 

 

“You wrecked my house! And my ex-husband! And my car!” 

 

His nostrils flare and she knows she’s really pushing it, but she can’t seem to stop.

 

“Baby, I did you a favor and you know it.”

 

“Why did you even come back, anyway? I don’t need you.”

 

A few strides bring them face to face. She gasps as he steps into her space and her hands automatically go up to his chest to stop him.

 

Their eyes meet.

 

“You don’t need me, huh?”

 

“No,” she says, her voice firmer than she expected, considering how warm his chest feels under her palms. 

 

“You’re a boss ass bitch now?” 

 

There’s that word again. 

 

She shoves him, hard, and momentarily knocks him off balance but he advances, forcing her backwards until her back hits the dresser. She stumbles a little in her heels and he grabs her by the waist, either to keep her from falling, or as some intimidating tactic. Either way, she can’t handle him touching her, it’s overwhelming, so she pushes him, slaps him, and them pushes him again. 

 

He takes a step back and he’s touching his cheek. He swipes at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and Beth is shocked to see there’s blood there. She didn’t think about her rings.

 

“This looks familiar,” Rio gruffs, motioning between them. 

 

Beth’s chest is heaving when she asks, “What do you want?” 

 

“You keep asking me that! What do  _ you _ want?”

 

“ _ What _ ?” 

 

He strides toward her once again, this time stopping short of touching her, his eyes on her lips, his voice lower than before when he asks again, “What do you want?” 

 

Their breathing is audible in the silence that follows and blankets them, envelops them in the tension they hadn’t allowed themselves to acknowledge before.

 

She inches forward, hesitantly, before kissing him softly, and again, more firmly before darting her tongue out to flick the corner of his mouth and catching just a hint of blood. He’s standing so still she thinks he might bolt, but as she exhales and an involuntary moan leaves her, he snaps and lunges forward. When her back hits the dresser a second time, his tongue is in her mouth and her hands are under his shirt, her nails raking down the toned muscles of his back as his hands explore her waist and hips. 

 

At some point they make it onto her bed, just barely managing to get his shirt and her underwear off before she’s pulling him over her and wrapping her legs around his waist while he hoists her higher up the mattress.

 

With one arm hooked under her shoulder to grab a fistful of her hair and the other hand between them to guide himself he slips firmly inside her. 

 

Beth moans loudly enough that she’s aware of it, and she’s grateful when he pauses the moment he’s inside her. His breath is puffing against her cheek as he presses his forehead to hers. When she contracts around him, he grunts and she shudders. 

 

“Wait, just wait a second,” she whispers harshly, attempting to find her bearings. After all this time and the sloppy execution, she wants to relish in this, in the way his back twitches when she touches him, the way he’s kissing her neck, the firm hold he has on her hair. 

 

She kisses his ear, his cheek, his chin until she finds his mouth again and she whimpers against his lips when he begins to move again, slow and steady thrusts until they require more and her nails are digging into his back, urging him to move harder. 

 

He pulls back to look at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

 

She reaches up to brush her palm across his his forehead and this makes him slow down. 

 

Through bated breath she asks, “Where have you been?” 

 

Something in the way he looks at her tells her nowhere she wants to know.

 

Part of her wonders what the fuck she’s doing, but a bigger part of her is already hooked on the way he kisses her, the way he mouths her breasts and sucks greedily at her nipples through her dress, and how he grunts and curses under his breath when she comes right before he does, pulling out at just the right moment before collapsing beside her, and then reaching for her hand as they catch their breath. 

 

She can imagine what they must look like, half dressed and sprawled on her bed, but she doesn’t care. 

 

All the tension she’d been feeling, and the ghostly annoyance she couldn’t put her finger on that kept her from enjoying everything--it’s gone. 

 

Beth doesn’t realize she’s closed her eyes until Rio breaks the silence and says, “You’re not going to call the feds on me again, are you?” 

 

She laughs and smacks his chest with the back of her hand. “Shut up.” 

 

When she turns to him, the warmth with which he looks at her makes her want to kiss him, so she rolls over and kisses him, slowly, languidly, sighing as she pulls away and touches his lip. 

 

As if reading her mind, he says, “Don’t worry, you don’t hit that hard.” 

 

She laughs and shakes her head. “So funny.”

 

“I’m a funny guy.”

 

She won’t tell him she’s missed him, or that she maybe likes him. She’s not sure they’re there yet. She’s not even sure she’s ready to admit that to herself.

 

Everything happened so quickly. But she’s sure she doesn't want him to go yet, so she leans forward, drops a kiss on his chest and then hops off the bed before saying, “Let’s go take a bath.”

 

She doesn’t have to look to know he’s right behind her. She hopes she can convince him to not disappear for a while. 


End file.
